John's Last Farewell
by Waples.A
Summary: Sherlock gets badly injured after a case and John says something he should have said ages ago.


**John's Last Farewell**  
(Just something that came to mind) This is my first Fic uploaded so any reviews are welcome. I have many more in the process of being made, so how ever well this one goes there maybe more for you. This hasn't been Beta read so forgive any mistakes made please. There is a small poem at the end as well. I made it when I was bored so that's just and extra.

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Normally upon finishing a case Sherlock and John would grab a cab, get something to eat and then go back to the flat. The next day they would go to the yard to fill in some paperwork, but this time Sherlock solved it earlier than expected so they got the paperwork done on the same day. The murderer hadn't been caught yet but Sherlock had listed a few places he might be lurking, so Lestrade had sent officers to have a look for him. Sherlock was always full of adrenaline after a case and sitting in an office doing paperwork was really quite boring. Once the paper work was done Lestrade said they could go and Sherlock didn't hesitate to leave. John had to jog every now and then to keep up with the long legged Sherlock don the corridors of Scotland Yard. As soon as they were outside in the cold winter air Sherlock spun on the spot looking for a cab and it didn't take long for one to arrive.

They were still at least 5 blocks from the flat when Sherlock told the cabbie to stop. John gave him a confused look but Sherlock was already opening the door to get out. John rolled his eyes but followed suit and paid the cabbie. He turned to Sherlock again who was obviously still needing to get the adrenaline out his system.  
"So what are we doing here?" John said as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.  
"I'll race you back to the flat. I need to run, John." John was hesitant at first but then decided he might as well. Running would warm him up and it might tire Sherlock out a bit for when they get home.  
"Right okay." They both got themselves ready in line with a lamp post.  
"On the count of three?" John nodded in agreement and Sherlock began to count.  
"One...Two..." He saw John bolt off and stood shocked for a moment.  
"Hey, that's cheating!" He shouted as he began to run after him. They were like a pair of kids playing in the school playground. It didn't take long for Sherlock's long legs to catch up with John but he was running out of breath quickly and he needed a shortcut. He had a quick look on his inner map then passed John and gave a sharp turn in to an alleyway.  
"Oh no you don't!" John turned the corner as well and was going to pick up his pace to catch Sherlock but he didn't have to. He ran straight into the back of him which made them both fall to the floor. Sherlock landed on his front and John half landed on top of him.

After a couple of seconds John rolled off Sherlock and on to his front and began to stand up while he was laughing a bit.  
"Sherlock, why..."  
"John, look." Sherlock had pulled him back down so he was crouching and he followed Sherlock gaze down the alley. John could see someone facing them at the other end of the alley. It looked like they had startled the person and he could see the person was holding something but couldn't make out what it was. When the guy started to walk towards them John and Sherlock stood up and didn't take their eyes him while they tried to catch their breath. As he got closer John could see it was a knife the guy was wielding in his hand. He looked to Sherlock and could see he was deciding whether they should run or stay. Sherlock stayed where he was and so did John. He knew Sherlock was now planning to stay and confront this person, fight if he had to. He looked back to the guy coming towards them and he was so close John could make out his face. It was the killer the police were looking for. John reached into his pocket for his phone but it wasn't there. It must have fallen out when he was running. They guy was running now and Sherlock had decided to run towards him as well. Before he could stop him Sherlock and the man were in a hand to hand combat. John stood for a moment, frozen, watching the knife skim Sherlock a few times. When the knife cut and drew blood on Sherlock's arm John snapped out of it and went in to help his friend.

Carefully avoiding the knife John was able to get behind him and lock his arms behind his back. Sherlock gave him a knee to the stomach and hit the knife out his hand before standing back and letting John hold him to the floor. Sherlock took his phone out his pocket and called Lestrade he turned his back to John and the killer as he spoke. A couple of seconds was all it took though and the killer broke free of John's hold and was able to pick the knife up.  
"Sherlock!" He heard John shout and turned to look at him but was face to face with the killer. He stopped breathing and his eyes widened as the knife was thrust through him. He dropped the phone that was up at his ear and he moved his hands to the knife that was in his front. He heard John shout his name again and then the killer was on the floor unconscious. Sherlock couldn't hold himself up and fell backwards hitting the concrete below him.

John ran over and knelt down beside him. He moved Sherlock's hands to reveal the knife had been removed and Sherlock was bleeding badly. He took his coat off and placed it on the wound to try and stop the bleeding. He moved so he was sat against the alley wall and Sherlock's head was on his lap. Sherlock could feel John's hand holding his head and his fingers playing with his hair. He could hear John sobbing a little and struggling to breathe but he was managing to talk to him.  
"Sherlock, open your eyes. Please, you need to keep your eyes open. You need to look at me." Sherlock did as his doctor told him and opened his eyes to see John's face. As he lied there looking up at his only friend, he was becoming very weak and knew he wasn't going to be here for much longer.  
"John..." He breathed as he brought his hand up to rest on John's which was on his wound. John had started crying, he knew Sherlock might not make it out of this but he was determined to keep him for as long as possible.  
"Sherlock, Shh... You not leaving. Do you hear me?" Sherlock closed his eyes tightly as John put more pressure on the wound and pain shot through his body. John voice was firm but you could hear him crying. Sherlock eyes had begun to water and tears were running down the side of his face now. John moved and turned Sherlock's hand so they were holding each other. His other hand was still holding his head and his fingers twirling in his hair. Sherlock opened his eyes again a could see John had closed his eyes and his chin was at his chest. His mouth was moving as he was trying to say something but he wasn't making any noise apart from his heavy breathing. After a couple of tries John finally said something, his voice was strained and at the back of his throat but Sherlock could still hear it.  
"I love you, Sherlock." Sherlock gave a small laugh but it hurt so he grunted and sobbed a little at the same time.  
"Obviously... And I suppose if this is, ah... My last chance to say it..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to get rid of some of the pain. When he opened his eyes John was looking straight in to them. He looked back into John's eyes and carried on.  
"John Watson... I..." He breathed in once more and then as te breath left him, he went quiet. John watched as the light left his friends eyes and he tightened his grip on Sherlock's hand to see if there was a response.

"Sherlock? No, Sherlock wake up, please wake up." He let go of Sherlock's hand and it fell to the floor. He could hear the sirens of a police car getting closer but it was too late. He pulled his friend's body up and closed the distance by leaning down so they had each others heads on the other's shoulder. John closed his eyes and rocked back and forth holding his friend tightly in his arms. Lestrade found him with his face buried into Sherlock's scarf with his eyes still closed as he breathed his name and begged for him to wake.  
"Sherlock... Please Sherlock... I love you, please wake up... Don't leave me... Sherlock..."

John visited Sherlock's grave nearly everyday Mrs Hudson would go with him sometimes but most of the time he was alone. To everyone else he was alone, but to John, Sherlock was still there with him. As long as John thought of him, he was there. He would take a camp chair with him sometimes so he could sit and talk to his friend for hours. It wasn't quite the same because Sherlock would normally interrupt and say something inappropriate but it was something to John. Some days he would be fine and be able to get on with his life a bit but there was some days when he couldn't do anything. He couldn't live a good life without his detective. He would go to Sherlock's grave in the early hours of the morning after not being able to sleep and sit on the grass with his phone in his hand looking through Sherlock's website and the texts Sherlock had sent various people to solve cases. Sometimes he would phone Greg just to talk to him, then Greg would pick John up and take him home and sit with him until he was asleep.

It was the early hours of the morning and Greg was asleep. He saw that John looked okay today and thought tonight he might get a full nights sleep. He woke, startled, as his phone rang so he switched the light on and looked to see who it was then he answered.  
"John? What's wrong?"  
"I can't do this anymore Greg. I need him." His voice was shaky and Greg could hear he was crying and probably drunk. He must be at Sherlock's grave again.  
"I'm going to come and get you. Stay where you are."  
"No, I can't do this. I want to be with him." To begin with he didn't understand then it clicked and he knew what that meant. He shot up out of bed and didn't bother getting changed as he put his shoes on as quickly as he could with one hand.  
"John, I'm coming to get you. Don't do anything."  
"But I need him Greg... I can't do this..." Greg got into the car and put John on loud speaker as he started it up.  
"John? Keep talking to me. What ever your thinking of doing don't do it."  
"I need to! I need to see him again!" He could hear John crying harder than he had ever heard before. The cemetery wasn't that far away he would be there in a minute.  
"John, Listen I'm nearly there. Don't..."  
"I need him..." He stopped the car outside the gate and picked up his phone.

"John? Are you still there?" He jumped out the car and began running to the tree Sherlock was buried under. He stopped when he could see it. He could see John. He could see John knelt down facing the grave stone holding something in his mouth. He began to run over and as he got closer he could see it was a gun.  
"John! stop! Don't do this." John took the gun out of his mouth and turned his head to look at Greg as he put his hand up to stop him coming closer.  
"No! I need him! I love him!" Greg could only watch as John faced the grave again and closed his eyes as he cried. He put the gun back up to his mouth but before he put it in he spoke again.  
"I want to be buried here..." John put a hand down on the grass next to Sherlock's grave.  
"We can plan that later John. Please put the gun down." Greg moved very slowly towards his distraught friend as he watched John put both hands back on the gun. "John please..."  
"Goodbye Greg. I'm coming Sherlock. I love you."

"John!" He put his hand out and stepped forward but before he could get close, John pulled the trigger and fell backwards. His hands dropped on to the grass letting go of the gun. Greg stood looking at the doctors body settle on to the grass of the detectives grave. He took a deep breath and put his hand to his mouth as he steadied himself on a nearby tree. He lent against the tree for a few minutes not believing what he just witnessed. He never thought anyone would go to such a length to see Sherlock again, but then this was John.

Greg made sure John was buried right next to Sherlock as close as they could get him, exactly where John asked to be put. They were under the branches of a weeping willow tree and there was no other grave around them. Molly, Greg and Mrs Hudson would visit at least once a week and Mrs Hudson would sometimes lay flowers. It was strange not having them around Scotland Yard anymore and it became too quiet at the flat and the hospital.

Mrs Hudson left the flat how it was when John and Sherlock left it. She couldn't bring her self to move anything or dust. Sometimes she couldn't even bring herself to go up and open the door. So 221B sat empty, gathering dust for as long as anyone could remember.

* * *

 _Sherlock's blood is red,_ _My hands are too,  
_ _That's when I told him,_ _'Sherlock, I love you.'_

 _He tried to say it back,_ _And I felt my heart die,  
_ _As the light left his eyes, '_ _John Watson...I...'_

 _J_ _ohn's heart broke,_ _And he wanted him back,  
_ _He needed his detective,_ _But time made him crack._

 _He was knelt at the grave,_ _And Greg watched on,  
_ _As he fired the bullet,_ _Now John was gone._

 _The flat was silent,_ _Her heart full of dread,  
_ _It reminds Mrs Hudson,_ _Her Baker boys are dead._

 _They may be gone,_ _But hearts under heather,  
_ _In the soil they sleep,_ _Together forever._

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 _If you got this far I want to say Thank You for reading and please review._

 _Update: I have had comments that have said there is a reference to a TV show, called Doomsday, in here somewhere. I just want to say I have never seen Doomsday and the reference was a complete coincidence._


End file.
